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hand kisses
It’s something he doesn’t even think Kyoutani realizes he does most of the time. Absent presses of lips to the back of their hands, their palms, their knuckles. The kisses come along with a fondness for holding hands and touching in general. Daichi likes the soft affection. The gentle, distracted touch of lips to his skin. It makes him feel like even if Kyoutani is distracted that part of him still thinks about Daichi and wants to reassure him of Kyoutani’s presence. It’s adorable, really, though Daichi tends to think a lot of things about Kyoutani are adorable, and he likes the gentles attention so he doesn’t remark when Kyoutani tangles their fingers together as they sit side by side at the counter that separates Daichi’s kitchen and living room.
Kyoutani stares down at his textbook, brow wrinkled, and pulls their linked hands to his mouth. He presses his lips against Daichi’s knuckles and after a moment they start moving, forming words as Kyoutani reads along whatever passage is giving him trouble. Daichi goes back to adding notes and thoughts to the papers in front of him.
cheek kisses
Kenma dangles Daichi’s keys from his finger, the soft jingling filling the entryway as he waits for his best friend to hurry up. They’re already going to be late. The question now is just how late are they going to be. Daichi hurries back into the entryway and pats his pockets one last time before slipping on his shoes. Kenma jiggles the keys as Daichi ties his shoes and lets out an impatient sigh when Daichi takes too long.
“I know, I know,” Daichi mutters. “We’re late. I’m a horrible person. Blah blah blah.” He straightens and glances towards the key hooks near the door. Kenma rattles the keys again and Daichi’s gaze zeroes in on them. He grabs them with a grin and leans forward to press a kiss to Kenma’s cheek before opening the door. “Thanks,” he murmurs before stepping out the door.
Kenma blinks in surprise at the contact. His fingers touch his cheek softly.
They’ve never done that before. But he can’t really say as he minds it much.
“Come on.” Daichi’s hand is warm against Kenma’s elbow. “We’re gonna be late.” Kenma rolls his eyes and lets his best friend drag him out the door.
nose kisses
“Kenma.” Daichi tilts his head to the side. “Kenma I’m-” He tilts his head back to the other side. “Kenma.” Warm, chapped lips press insistently against his nose and Daichi goes a little cross-eyed to look at Kenma’s face.
“Hi,” Kenma says. His breath tickles Daichi’s lips and he can smell the candies that Kenma was eating earlier.
“Hi,” Daichi replies. Kenma’s smiles aren’t the four leaf clover rarities they were when he and Kenma were kids but it still hits him like a volleyball spike to the chest when Kenma’s lips curl with satisfaction. “Did you need something?”
Kenma kisses his nose a few more times and Daichi wriggles it a little at the sensation but stands the onslaught until Kenma nips his nose lightly and then slides from Daichi’s lap with a soft, satisfied laugh.
“Just wanted to say hi.”
Daichi shakes his head and turns his attention back to the book he had been trying to read only to realize he’s lost his place. He flips through the pages with a sigh on his lips and the sound of Kenma pulling a game up on his phone floating through the air.
forehead kisses
“It’s like an off switch,” Kenma states. Then makes an excited humming noise when he finds a bottle of apple juice hidden in the back of Daichi’s fridge. “Just a quick peck on the forehead and he’s stunned silent for at least a minute no matter what.”
“No matter what?”
“No matter what. Try it for yourself.”
Kyoutani is in the middle of grumbling and growling about some fellow student in one of his lectures who asks the most inane and ridiculous questions and sidetracks the professor so it feels like they learn nothing when Daichi leans over the arm of the couch and kisses his forehead. Kyoutani’s words die off and he blinks a few times when Daichi pulls back. The confusion on his face is so adorable that Daichi kisses him again before continuing on his way to the bathroom.
“Told you,” Kenma says a few minutes later when Daichi comes back and settles down in the armchair with him. Kyoutani is still silent on the couch but his scowl has softened into something closer to a pout and Daichi smiles before pressing a kiss to Kenma’s temple and resting his cheek against Kenma’s head.
neck kisses
Kenma shudders but doesn’t try to move out of Kentarou’s arms, or remove Kentarou’s lips from his neck, so Kentarou continues kissing his way from Kenma’s jaw down his neck and back up again until he can whisper whatever reverent things he wants to in his ears. It’s safe to say them like this, more a breath of air against Kenma’s skin than words for the world to hear, and he lets them fall without care. Kenma soaks them up like sunshine and hums contently, throat vibrating under Kentarou’s lips.
shoulder kisses
Daichi sleepily squishes his nose into Kentarou’s shoulder and yawns, breath warm against Kentarou’s bare skin. Kentarou had told him to just go to bed three times in the last hour but Daichi refuses. He insists on staying up with Kentarou until he’s finished with his essay even though it might be a few more hours and Daichi has a fairly early meeting in the morning with potential sponsors. Daichi’s lips brush his shoulder and Kentarou sighs.
“Go to bed.”
“No,” Daichi whines. Then kisses his shoulder again. And again. “’M busy.”
“You’re busy? Kissing my shoulder and trying to distract me from my essay?” Kentarou huffs a little and tsks at Daichi. “You’re being a horrible influence.”
Three more kisses pepper his shoulder and he shakes his head. It’s his bad shoulder and he knows Daichi had seen him rubbing at it earlier and the silly, sleepy gesture probably shouldn’t be as adorable as it is but it makes Kentarou flush with warmth and fondness.
collarbone kisses
Music swirls through the air and crashes over him like waves. He’s secure on Daichi’s lap, one of Daichi’s arms around his waist and his other hand slid up under Kenma’s sweater and pressing over his heart. He’s sure Kyoutani can see Daichi’s fingertips under the wide scoop neck of the sweater, especially when Daichi slides his hand up to trace absently over the ink on Kenma’s collarbone. He cracks his eyes open and sure enough Kyoutani’s gaze is locked on the bare skin of Kenma’s throat and Daichi’s fingers against it.
Daichi’s fingers curl, nails scratching lightly, and he drags his hand back over Kenma’s heart, and he knows that Daichi feels the way it speeds up when Kyoutani leans forward and presses a kiss over the spot Daichi’s fingers had just been. The lingering heat from Daichi’s hand is lost under the damp press of Kyoutani’s lips and the warm flick of his tongue darting out to taste Kenma’s skin.
The music twists and curls and slides into something new.
The three of them follow along.
back kisses
Kenma likes Kyoutani’s back, likes the expanse of smooth skin and ripply muscles, likes the dips and curves and edges that he can trace, likes that Kyoutani lets him touch. Kenma likes Daichi’s too. Likes that he knows the story behind the fairly large, but faded, scar from his shoulder to his hip from sliding down a rocky hill on his back. They told everyone else that he had slipped and, unable to control his fall, landed on his back and tumbled down. The truth is that Kenma dared him to do it and Daichi, being Daichi, had done it. Kenma accepted a long time ago that Daichi would do a lot of things just because Kenma asked him to. It was more fun to get him to do it without having to ask though.
Kyoutani stretches and yawns, rolling onto his stomach so he can shove his face into the pillow he stole from the couch earlier. Kenma misses the warmth curled around his hip but he enjoys the view of Kyoutani’s relaxing form next to him. He leans to the side and kisses the middle of his back, right between his shoulder blades, before dropping over him and using Kyoutani as a pillow. He’s not even sure Kyoutani feels the soft kiss through his sweatshirt but it doesn’t matter. Some kisses don’t need to be felt.
stomach kisses
Kenma and Daichi in a tangle of limbs on some surface or another really isn’t an unusual occurrence; they’ve been existing in each other’s lives - and spaces - so long that it’s as much a part of them as breathing is and Kentarou is often hesitant to intrude on that. They have a connection that he doesn’t understand and really never expects to and sometimes he’s not sure where he fits in between them, literally and figuratively. But it’s not all that strange for Kentarou to wander into Daichi’s apartment after classes and find Daichi in the armchair with Kenma settled in his lap and both of them reading something or to see Kenma sprawled on the couch with Daichi using his chest as a pillow or to find Daichi on a bar stool in the kitchen working on something and Kenma in his lap with his chin over Daichi’s shoulder and his tablet pressing into Daichi’s back. They tangle arms and legs and run hands absently through hair and along skin and Kentarou watches. He never really knows where or when or how to join in until one of them is pulling him down or sliding into his space or positioning him just so on the couch.
But today has been a day where he doesn’t care. About anything anymore. He just wants the growing to be familiar scent of Kenma’s sweatshirts in his nose and warmth of Daichi’s hand on his shoulder or arm or back. He wants to anchor himself in their presences and forget, for just a little while, that he’s not on their level of connection.
He shuffles into Daichi’s apartment, kicking his shoes off towards the corner and not caring where he tosses his jacket, and makes his way to the living room where he spots Kenma settled in the armchair. He sinks to his knees in front of the chair and tugs until Kenma’s legs are bracketing him and he can bury his face against Kenma’s stomach. If Kenma is surprised or startled or confused in the slightest he doesn’t show it. He simply twitches a little and shifts so he can continue scrolling through his phone with one hand and rub gently at the back of Kentarou’s neck with the other.
Once he feels a little less like a balloon with a slow leak Kentarou nuzzles at Kenma’s stomach and leaves a kiss against the warmth of his sweatshirt. Kenma huffs distractedly and curls his legs around Kentarou, keeping him where he is. Daichi finds them there later and winds up settling on the floor with his back pressed against Kentarou’s and for the first time all day Kentarou feels like he’s where he’s supposed to be.
hipbone kisses
It still startles Daichi a little with how easy it had been to fall into this. To shift from nothing more than best friends to maybe something more. He knows it wouldn’t have happened without Kyoutani there to bring them just one more thing that they both love, and love together.
He traces the edge of Kenma’s hipbone and gets a bored glare. Then Kyoutani follows the motion with his lips and Kenma shivers under the attention.
But he worries, too, that as easy as it was to fall into this it might be just as easy to fall out of it and the last thing he wants is to lose either of them.
sad kisses
Kenma can feel Daichi distancing himself with each kiss. They still invade each other’s spaces and sprawl on top of each other and steal each other’s body wash and laundry soap. But each time they kiss or fall asleep on the couch pressed against each other or bicker over who gets to take Kyoutani out on a date that night Daichi is a little further away. He doesn’t feel like he’s losing his best friend or anything but he feels like the closeness they’ve had the last few months with Kyoutani around is slowly growing and soon it will be a chasm he’s not sure he knows how to cross. He’s not sure how to go back to being Kenma and Daichi, and Kenma and Kyoutani, and Kyoutani and Daichi. Not when he’s gotten so comfortable being Kenma, Kyoutani, and Daichi.
Daichi was always the one to start things between the two of them - their friendship, volleyball, dating Kyoutani, kissing - and a tiny part of Kenma’s brain thinks it’s only fitting that he’s the one be trying to end it too.
He buries his face into Kyoutani’s neck and lets his mind wander. It’s just like Daichi to try to be the responsible one and make all the decisions about them.
happy kisses
Kentarou hoists Kenma over his shoulder with a laugh and carries him through the park, ignoring the strange looks they’re being given and refusing to put Kenma down. They’d still be getting strange looks because Kenma was completely soaked thanks to his little tumble into the fountain after trying to avoid a kid chasing a dog past him. At least this way Kentarou could get him back to his apartment quicker so Kenma could change into some dry clothes.
“This is so embarrassing,” Kenma mutters, just loud enough for Kentarou to hear and start laughing again. “You’re embarrassing. Just put me down already or else.”
“You’re a wet angry kitten, Kenma. So threatening.”
He should have kept his mouth shut because as soon as he’s inside Kenma’s apartment Kenma leans himself up enough to wring out his shirt. Right on top of Kentarou’s head.
He shivers and shudders and squawks as lukewarm water runs down his back and soaks into his shirt. Kenma’s soft laughter sparks something in his chest and he lets go of Kenma just enough that he falls through his fingers, an alarmed look on his face, and the Kentarou catches him again when his face is the perfect level to pepper with kisses. Kenma’s laughter gets louder as he squirms and tries to break free of Kentarou’s grip.
sweet kisses
Kentarou sets down his mug and before he can even do so much blink Daichi is leaning over from the stool next to him and pulling him into a kiss. Daichi’s tongue darts out and licks along Kentarou’s lips and he has to put one hand on the counter and the other on Daichi’s thigh just to keep his balance when Daichi pulls back almost as quickly as he hand swooped in.
“You had whip cream on your lip,” Daichi explains when Kentarou blinks stupidly at him. Kentarou glances down at his dark purple mug of hot chocolate and then back up to Daichi’s grin.
There’s no whip cream on Daichi’s lips but that doesn’t stop Kentarou from returning the gesture.
angry kisses
“I am perfectly capable of making my own decisions Daichi,” Kenma hisses, fingers tangled in Daichi’s shirt sleeve as he drags Daichi down an empty corridor. His cheeks are flushed, eyes narrow and piercing, breaths deep but frighteningly controlled as he yanks Daichi forward and propels him into the nearby wall. Daichi manages to brace himself with his free hand so his nose doesn’t smash into the wall and a moment later Kenma yanks again and spins him, back to the wall.
Kenma can be easy to rile up and get small rises out of if you know the buttons to push and after two decades of knowing him Daichi knew all the buttons. He sometimes forgets, though, how much larger Kenma can be when he’s pushed too far. How he can make you shrink under his gaze. How he gets into your space and presses you into corners and doorways until they scratch at your back and make you itch to cower away.
Kenma grabs Daichi’s collar with his free hand and yanks his head down. The kiss is hard and messy and more of a press of teeth behind lips than anything else.
“And I choose both of you,” he breathes the words against Daichi’s lips and then he’s gone, stomping down the corridor and slamming the door at the end open.
Daichi presses a shaking hand to his lips as the door softly clicks shut.
good morning kisses
The sun rose hours ago. The dew and fog from the night is long gone. Morning errands have given way to lunch dates.
Daichi hovers outside Kenma’s door. He tries to tell himself that he’s just being considerate since he knows Kenma isn’t really a morning person on the best of days.
It’s a lie. He’s a mess. He had spent most of his rehearsal last night in a daze, his famed focus nothing but mist and dust in the air. Sleep had been an almost nonexistent concept. He had only been up with the sun because he was already awake, had been more or less all night.
And now Kenma’s door is one of the most daunting things he’s ever had in front of him.
He’s just steeling himself to knock - and he knows that if Kenma was aware of any of this he’d be giving Daichi is most disgusted look because, really? they’ve been friends how long and Daichi is hesitating to come in - when the door swings open.
Kyoutani tilts his head and blinks at him for a moment and then finishes pulling his jacket on. He gives Daichi a distracted kiss on the cheek.
“Kenma’s in the kitchen with a bowl of sugary marshmallowy cereal. Just apologize or make him apologize or fix it? Please? I’m getting cavities just being in the same room as him.”
Then Kyoutani’s gone and Daichi’s standing in the hallway of Kenma’s building staring at his open door. Daichi takes one last deep breath and heads inside; if Kenma hasn’t killed him after two decades of friendship he’s pretty certain he won’t kill him now.
good night kisses
Kentarou stares up at the stars and huddles a little deeper into his jacket, mind still stuck on the way he had fit perfectly between Daichi and Kenma. Daichi had been sitting on the floor with Kentarou leaning his back against Daichi’s chest while they watched a movie. After about half an hour Kenma had grumbled and rolled off the couch to drop himself into Kentarou’s lap with his blanket spread over them. Kentarou had nearly fallen asleep with the warm and comfort and sense of being right where he was supposed to be.
Daichi had fallen asleep, head dropping backwards onto the couch cushions, and Kenma had snorted when Daichi started snoring softly, attention not wavering from the movie. It had taken everything Kentarou had to keep from falling asleep along with him. Some days he really hated having to go back to the dorms and campus for his early classes. Especially with Kenma in his lap with his head resting against Kentarou’s good shoulder and his favorite blanket tucked around them like some sort of shield to protect them from the rest of the world.
After the movie Kentarou had finally given up and nuzzled at Kenma’s face until he turned his head for a kiss. Which turned into a few kisses which turned into Kenma turning to face Kentarou and drag him into one of the warmest, wettest, most consuming good night kisses he’s ever had. Daichi had woken with a sniffle when Kentarou groaned and shifted, trying to make his jeans fit a little more comfortably without really moving from Kenma’s attentions.
Kentarou shakes his head and hurries on his way back to the dorms, smile lingering on his still warm lips.
I miss you kisses
It’s ten steps from the curb to the front door of Daichi’s apartment complex. Thirty from the door to the stairs. Two flights up. Another twenty-five steps to reach his door. Seventeen steps from his door to his bedroom.
Kenma covers that distance in under two minutes from when Daichi sees him get out of the cab from his spot at his desk next to the window to the moment Daichi’s bedroom door is flung open.
“He missed you.” Kyoutani’s voice floats up to them from Daichi’s laptop.
Daichi pulls away from Kenma’s lips long enough to mutter, “Never would have guessed thanks,” and then he’s being drawn back into the insistent press of Kenma’s lips against his own. Kenma’s fingers dig into everything they can reach: Daichi’s hair, his shoulders, his shirt, his neck, his thighs. They flutter and cling and scrape against Daichi, never leaving him for longer than a shuddering breath between moments.
“Not that I don’t appreciate the show,” Kyoutani says softly, “but I have class in a bit.”
Kenma pulls away from Daichi and glares at the screen.
“You’re coming over after your class.” It’s not a question. Kyoutani raises his brows and huffs out a laugh.
The Skype call ends and Daichi rearranges them so Kenma’s head is tucked under Daichi’s chin.
“I was only gone a couple weeks,” he says gently, fingers running through Kenma’s hair and then down his arm. “I missed you too,” he adds when Kenma huffs at him.
I want you kisses
Soft light falls over them from the twinkle lights strung up around the room. It’s a hazy sort of false warmth that make Kentarou want to bury himself in the closest soft object and never come back out. He settles for burying his face into Kenma’s neck and leaving lingering kisses along his skin. There’s so many words he wants to say, so many things he needs to tell Kenma, to tell Daichi, to tell the world. But the words get tangled and jumbled, leave his throat too full and his mind far too empty.
So he explains with the press of lips to skin. He apologizes with nips to throats. He begs with fluttering brushes against cheeks. He asks with peppering pecks along shoulders.
There’s so much he needs, so much he wants, so much that it threatens to drown him.
Luckily they’re both willing to refill his lungs with air even as they steal it away.
It’s a delicate balance for someone who has never been much of a soft touch.
I need you kisses
Daichi can give speeches that inspire, write lyrics that leave the audience breathless, toss out essays that make professors weep with joy.
But he can’t find the fucking words to explain to his best friend and his best friend’s boyfriend - who is maybe Daichi’s boyfriend too? - just how fucking much he needs them. He needs Kenma’s unwavering support, Kyoutani’s sharp laughter, Kenma’s fond sighs, Kyoutani’s take no shit attitude, Kenma’s need for affection, Kyoutani’s warm smiles. He needs all of it. He needs them.
Daichi tugs Kenma close in the dark of his bedroom, pulls his best friend against his chest and just curls around him on the bed. He can feel Kenma’s breath against his chest, smell his shampoo, hear his voice as he murmurs soothing nonsense in the dark.
The bed dips as Kyoutani cautiously sits on the edge. He can feel the heat from Kyoutani’s hip near his back and he reaches back blindly to yank Kyoutani down with them.
He kisses whatever skin is in front of him. It’s desperate, frantic. He can feel the panic clawing up his spine and threatening to rip into his heart.
Kyoutani takes Daichi’s face in his hands and holds him steady so he can lean in for a proper kiss. Kenma’s limbs are wrapped around Daichi and his lips are pressed over Daichi’s heart. Kyoutani’s lips are firm against Daichi’s; not demanding or playing or rough, just…there.
He still can’t find the words to say what he needs. But he doesn’t think that’s a bad thing when Kyoutani slowly kisses him into oblivion and Kenma holds him tight.
jealous kisses
Kentarou sees Kenma’s eyes flash in the low light of the bar and then there are warm fingers around his wrist. His back hits the wall and presses half the air from his lungs. Then Kenma is against his chest and tugging his head down and whatever breath is still in his lungs is forgotten when Kenma kisses him. Kenma doesn’t crush their lips together or bite possessively at Kentarou’s lips. He doesn’t need to. He consumes Kentarou with the warm press of their lips together, the sweep of his tongue against Kentarou’s lips, his fingers digging into the back of Kentarou’s neck and splaying against his stomach, the way his body fits against Kentarou’s as he lets his weight sink in. The bass of the music thumps low in his gut and his heartbeat replies, a steady rhythm that pounds in his head.
Kenma finally pulls away, eyes flickering, and sighs. He licks his lips and Kentarou feels the air crash back into his lungs.
“I was just asking if they knew how much longer until Daichi’s group was up.”
Kenma blows his bangs out of his face and purses his lips.
“Don’t care,” he replies. Then he buries his face in Kentarou’s chest, hand still wrapped around his neck, and sighs. “You’re supposed to be here with me.”